No Light in the Shadows
by LiteralBlue
Summary: Rufus Shinra, the boy who had everything, ends up stuck with a slum rat from a gang that wants him dead. Survival in the world beneath the plate is harder than he thought. DISCONINUED FOR NOW. Sorry.
1. Chapter 1

What sort of world did the vice president live in, that he, a sixteen-year-old, needed two bodyguards to drive him to every event he was forced to attend? It wasn't exactly as though the boy couldn't defend himself if he needed to. And no one would dare to attack vice president Rufus Shinra. _I don't need this. I can take care of myself._ The slick black limo turned a corner, bringing Rufus closer to some dull speech of his father's. _Why do_ I _need to be here? It's not as if the old man even needs me._

Rufus Shinra had lived a sheltered life, always safe from every danger the world held. The Turks, the best of the best, had taught him how to defend himself. His shotgun never missed, ever. He didn't need to worry about safety, least of all his own. Another corner was rounded. Bored, Shinra the younger glanced out of his tinted windows. He saw a flash of metal in an alley. He saw the motorbike collide head-on with the limo. And then, he saw nothing.

* * *

Rika Delmonté yawned, ignoring the affronted look the passers-by gave to the young woman leaning on the wall. She hated jobs like these, the ones that brought her above the plate. She hated the way the classy people in their classy suits and fifty-gil haircuts looked at her. She was a slum rat, and she looked it. Her hair was still damp from a hasty wash, there were buttons missing from her stained blue shirt and her jeans were full of holes, never patched up. She sighed. She wanted to just shoot the idiot she's been sent to shoot, and get it over with. And maybe shoot the idiot who'd sent her to shoot the idiot. After her pay had been collected, of course. 

**Here he comes.** Absently she flicked what was left of her cigarette out into the road, and stepped off the curb. Her gray eyes widened in horror as a man on a motorbike suddenly zoomed by and swerved to avoid her, skidding out of control into the oncoming limousine with tinted windows. **Oh, shit.** There was a deafening crash as the two vehicles collided. It was late at night. There was no one else in the street. The lone assassin glanced around her to make sure she was alone before she ran to the burning wreck with about as much grace as a limp pig. She staggered her way to the cyclist, and kicked off his helmet. He was her man.

In an unusual act of concern, she circled her way around to the car, and pulled open the door, to find herself faced with the barrel of a gun. Instinct taking over immediately, she whipped out her own gun and shot. Luckily the man, now limp in the passenger's seat, had taken a harsh hit on the head. Now he also had a bullet in his face. The man in the driver's seat also had a gun, but he was dead. At least, she hoped he was, or she felt sincerely sorry for him. She was about to go when she noticed the figure limp in the back seat. She hesitated, then swore and clambered over the corpses in the front to this boy. He hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, but he was almost certainly alive. And covered in blood. **This is going to be fun. **She pulled out her phone and dialled a number her thumb if not her head knew off by heart.

A man's low, educated voice appeared at the other end. "Rika? Did you get Davis?" those in The Business had no time for pleasantries. **This is _gold_**! "Screw Davis, you're not gonna believe what I found!"

* * *

A/N Okay, not much to laugh at, but that picks up a little later. This is NOT a romance, thank you so very much. Language is going to get worse. The _italics_ are Rufus's thoughts, the **bold** writing is Rika's thoughts. Rufus is 16, Rika is 21. R&R please, _constructive_ critisism is welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

Rufus twitched. He could feel the weight of heavy blankets over him, smelling faintly of some kind of flower. His head felt about to split under the enormous pressure of the worst migraine ever experienced. _Where am I?_ He tried to move, but a sudden flood of pain coursed through his body, every muscle screaming in protest. He decided to try something a little easier, and opened his eyes. The ceiling that came into his view was unfamiliar. Not that he was into a habit of recognising places by their ceilings, but it was unfamiliar anyway.

_Where am I?_ He didn't know what to do. Trying to ignore the agony in his head, he turned to see the rest of the room. It was a fair-sized place, but then, to the vice-president it was more like the size of his bathroom. The walls were papered in cream, the floor carpeted scarlet and the furniture tasteful if a little battered. So, whoever lived here was reasonable well off. So, why had he not been returned to his father? _Maybe this is some kind of private care place?_

His icy blue eyes shifted to the side, and noticed a small photo in a silver frame on the table by the bed he lay on. A young woman in an elegant white dress beamed at him, a man in a suit by her side. To the side stood another man, jacket undone with his tie loose around his neck. Some sort of wedding, probably. It was then that he noticed the bullet hole on the wall behind it. _What the!_

The door opened and a string of colourful language floated into the room, a woman's voice raised in anger. The owner of the voice burst into the room, shouting something into a mobile phone about not working until she got her pay, then crossed to the window without looking at the limp boy on the bed, and hung up with one final profanity. It was then that she turned to Rufus. **Oh, balls.**

She was definitely the woman in the photo, though she looked a lot more battered. A scar curved its path beneath her right eye, which was granite gray. Her other eye was bruised but healing. She looked as though she had recently been beaten up, her skinny arms also bruised and cut in places. Her hair, falling over her black eye, was probably mahogany when it was dry, but now hung in damp, dark curls. The skin beneath her bruises was completely white. A jagged, fresh cut split her lower lip, still bleeding a little. She gave him what could have been a smile, but could also have been baring her teeth.

"Good morning, sleepy head. How are you feeling?" her voice, when she wasn't swearing, was low, cultured and soft.

"Who are you? Why am I here? Where _is_ here?" Speaking hurt him. He tasted a scab on his own lip, and realised he was missing a tooth.

"I am Rika Delmonté. You are here because I found you in a car that was about to blow up, and you are in my home, flat #22 Everset Crescent, sector three slums, Midgar, Earth, the world, the universe. Need I be more specific? You are also in my bed, which I have given up in order to allow some comfort to your unconscious ass, and would appreciate having back."

"I'm confused."

"You would be. You've been dead to the world for, what, three weeks?"

Realisation dawned, and his memory hit him like a wet flannel. The crash. His father. The vague figure that he had seen running towards the limo before he passed out completely. "Why am I in the slums? I should be on the plate. What happened to my bodyguards? Are they here too?"

"Well, well, you're inquisitive today. Your bodyguards are dead. One died in the crash, one tried to kill me for absolutely no reason. I fired a warning shot, but it kinda hit his face. Sorry, and all that. You're here because I'm the one with the gun and I decide where you go. And you're staying here until I say otherwise. That is, until you heal. I'm going out. There're some clothes that might fit you in that cupboard. I'm locking you in. don't try to jump out of the window, we're on the seventh floor and I'd prefer you alive. Don't call for help, no one will come. You hungry? I don't really care. There's water in the jug and the bathroom's through here. Get some rest." She spoke extremely quickly before spinning around on her heel and marching out of the room. Rufus heard a key turn in the lock, and raised himself onto his elbows.

_I'm being kidnapped by a lunatic woman who shot my own bodyguard. Damn._

**I'm kidnapping a boy after I shot his bodyguard. I must be crazy. Shit.

* * *

**

The tall, dark-haired man by the window did not turn when the woman entered the room. He knew who was walking slowly towards him because he had an appointment, and _no one_ saw him without appointment. Not after they faced his evil, murderous secretary of doom. When a light hand rested on his shoulder, he finally turned to face his visitor.

"Kysten?"

"Miss Delmonté. Has pretty-boy woken up yet?"

"He woke up this morning. He's a quick healer, but he's already got mistrust in him. Ungrateful bastard, I saved his life. I'd bet he'll have come up with some masterful way to kill me and escape by the time I get back."

"I'll bet dinner and a show he does." **You wish.**

"Are you trying to win my delicate female heart, Kysten?"

"Maybe."

"You're failing miserably."

"Damn."

* * *

A/N I'm not sure if I should throw a little romance into this. I'm making it up as I go. Thank you for the lonely review, Sapphire! **Bold** is Rika's thoughts, _Italic_ is Rufus's thoughts. Happy Easter! 


	3. Chapter 3

The key turned in the lock and Rika absently ducked beneath the clumsy punch her captive threw at her. When he tried another one, she caught his fist. He kicked out at her. **Will you just give up? **Her knee came to his groin with the precision that could only have been matched by someone who has spent her life in the middle of a bar fight. Rufus' eyes began to water. _Ouch! _She pushed him away onto her bed and slammed the door shut.

"Rufus Shinra, you punch like a girl. You look like a girl and you act like a girl. You are, however, almost certainly not a girl. You have not grown up fighting your way through crowds of pimps. I, however, am a girl, and I punch like a man. _Do not fight me._ I will wipe your floor with your feminine ass if ever you do. Brat." Rufus glared. _That's rich, coming from you._

"Let me out." **Get real!**

"Hmm…Nah. You're worth a fortune to me. Why should I let you go? Hmm? Be realistic. You hungry?"

"Do you care?"

"Well, the boss'll beat me to a pulp if I let you starve, so... really, as much as I'd love for you to lay down and die, preferably on the sofa this time, I'm going to have to keep you. Alive for preference."

Rufus finally gave up, and sank down besides her on an unusually cushy sofa. Her cuts had been cleaned up since he last saw her, but there was a fresh one over her eyebrow, and what looked like a new bruise forming around it.

"Did your boss beat you up?" he asked, to break the silence. Swollen gray eyes widened and an angry expression crossed Rika's face. **Arrogant bastard!** She pushed him roughly onto the floor, and kicked him away. _Overreacting a little._

"He does not beat me up, and if you ever suggest that again I will tear off your balls and ram them down their throat, you asshole!" A single tear ran unnoticed down her cheek as she shouted. She closed her eyes and leaned back. Rufus felt warm blood leak from his nose where she kicked him.

He had changed into loose jeans and a black t-shirt, the most wearable clothes he had found in her stash. He didn't plan on asking where she had acquired so many men's clothes. He had flinched at the sight of his face in the mirror. He didn't look much better than hers, bruised and cut. There was a bandage around his head that he hadn't dared to remove, and a few more around his chest and arms. These he had carefully removed, and been horrified at the jagged wounds that spread across his body, sticky blood clinging to the white bandages.

"How are you feeling?" asked Rika eventually.

"Like the back of my head's been split open with a blunt chainsaw." The migraine had not yet gone.

"Join the club. Actually, I hit you with my gun. You kinda woke up whilst I was trying to get you out of that car before it blew up. You were thrashing like a bitch, so I knocked you out. Sorry about that." Rufus scowled. "Let me have a look at you." She smiled gently, then dragged him over to her bed and threw him onto it, his face in a scented pillow. He felt a rough tug as she pulled off the bandage. A warm liquid trickled down his neck, and for a second he thought she had torn open the wound when she yanked away the dresser, before he smelled soap. The cut stung, but he had received enough injuries in his time too know that it would need to be kept clean. _She probably knows it hurts._ He closed his eyes and tried to relax as all of his injuries were washed and re-bound. **You're in for it as soon as I can be bothered to make you suffer.**

Finally Rika allowed him to sit up, her work done. Her skills were good, her hands surprisingly gentle, and the one time she had tightened a bandage too much and sent fiery pain shooting through the Vice President's body, he was sure it was intentional. _I'll get you back for that._ In convenient timing (probably wouldn't happen in real life, but hey, this is _fiction_!), her mobile rang. She sighed and flipped it open. **God I hate you Kysten.**

"Hello, old buddy old chum. Have you got my pay? No? Then leave me alone, I'm busy… really? Well, you can tell him where to stick his _order_…oh? Yes, you'd damned well better make sure he does. Yes, I'll be right there. And Lorna? I know your game. _Do not_ tell Mint I'm coming or I will hunt you down and make you suffer." She hung up, looking smug. "Feel better? Put a jacket on, you're coming to meet the boss."

"Wha-?" Rika tossed him and old, worn jacked and slipped into the bathroom with a bundle of clothes over her arm. Rufus sighed, deciding the safest way to keep himself from getting hurt by this crazy lady was to do as she said. He slipped into the jacket and sat down, waiting. Rika stepped out of the bathroom in a long black coat, trousers a little frayed at the bottom, flat black boots and a black choker, a little silver cross hanging from it. Her hair was dry and brushed, covering the bruises on her face. There was a gun in a gray strap around her thigh, and the handle of a blade in her boot. Skilfully applied makeup covered the worst of her cuts, and there was a dangerous glint in her dark gray eyes. She was pulling on a pair of black fingerless gloves.

Something was wrong. Women were not supposed to change their looks this fast. They were supposed to spend hours in the bathroom trying to find the right look. Rika looked dangerous. She looked professional. She looked like a hit man. That was when it clicked. Delmonté? He had heard it in passing from the Turks. A gang leader named Delmonté had been giving them endless trouble. It seemed he owned a group of skilled assassins, as well as drug dealers, thieves and whore houses. _And I'm about to meet the bastard._ What had been said, on numerous occasions that stuck in young Rufus' memory was that Delmonté wanted an end to Shinra. _Rika must be one of his assassins._ He was in danger. This was why the woman had helped him. _If she let me die in the crash her boss wouldn't have paid her. She's going to hand me over to a man who wants me dead._ So much for kindness.

She smiled, showing all her white teeth, and held up a pair of handcuffs. "Don't run away now, my boy. You're no good to me dead."


	4. Chapter 4

The walk was not a pleasant one. Handcuffed to Rika, his face hidden by a red baseball cap she had insisted he wear, Rufus had been lectured about rules for the past half an hour. Nobody in the slums seemed to care that the young killer had a man handcuffed to her. As far as he could tell she was reciting the (until now) unspoken rules of survival. _Does she ever shut up?_ "Do not make eye contact with _anyone_," she intoned. "Do not speak to anyone, do not touch anyone, and for fuck's sake keep your face down. They find you here, they'll use your blood for paint, and I won't risk my ass to save you. And I mean it, _do not speak!_" **Is he even listening? Jesus, what an asshole.** Rika finally came to a halt outside what looked like a bar.

Loud, coarse shouts came from within the tatty, broken-down building. All of the ground floor windows were boarded up, flashing lights coming from between the cracks. Rika produced a key and unlocked the handcuffs, and Rufus seized his chance. And fell face first in the dirt. "Like I didn't see that one coming." said Rika absently. She dragged him to his feet by the collar of his jacket, and kept a hold of his wrist as she hammered on the door.

It opened a little, on a chain, hitting the two people with a wave of an alcoholic scent that made Rufus' eyes burn. A man with flaming red hair glared suspiciously through the crack. Green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Password?" He demanded, a slur in his voice. Rika rolled her eyes. **Here we go.**

"My name is Rika Delmonté. I am a pro hit man and I take orders directly from your boss. I also know where you and your sister live. Let me in, bastard."

The door shut briefly, then opened widely, allowing the two people to pass. The bar room was packed with people, all drinking, talking loudly and occasionally brawling. A few people waved at Rika. One slapped her ass in passing. She finally came to the counter where the barman, an old, gray man in a vest that might have been white once upon a time, peered at her through tiny beady eyes. "Usual, Ri? Anything for him?" He jerked a thumb in Rufus's direction.

"Nah, he's fighting the addiction." She grabbed the arm off a passing man. "But this gentleman here will buy me a beer" The man looked quite confused, but gave the woman a crumpled banknote and walked away, rubbing his wrist.

"How did you _do_ that?" asked Rufus, bemused, as the barman gave Rika a glass of a suspicious yellowish liquid that Rufus doubted was beer. She smiled at him.

"Would you believe, beneath the bruises I'm not a bad-looking woman? At least, I wasn't until I got this." She tapped the scar beneath her eye and laughed bitterly, offering him the glass. He took a sip without thinking, then spat it out immediately, disgusted. **What fun!** Rika laughed again and took a long gulp of the foul drink, pulling a face but swallowing. "Rule number one: never, and I repeat, NEVER drink beer that doesn't look like beer. Not unless you've got a liver tough as the Midgar Zolom. Rule number two: don't accept drinks from people who hate you. I'd have thought you of all people would have known that."

A red-faced man pulled up a stool next to her. "Hey, Ri, I'm parched." He said to her. She smiled again.

"I'll give you this beer for seven gil." He handed over the change, took the drink and disappeared into the crowd. She grinned. "Profit: seven gil and a swig of this horse piss some sods dare to call beer. Plus the look on your face when you tasted it. There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there're drunken idiots just waiting to be ripped off." She scanned the room, noticed someone in the crowd and visibly tensed. **Showtime.** Her stony eyes narrowed, and suddenly she looked like a bird of prey observing a nice, fat rabbit. "Wait here. And remember what I said. _Do not speak._" She slipped off into the crowd.

Rufus sighed, and stopped himself from having a peanut. "Cheer up, mate. Might never happen." A very short Wutaian woman with filthy, obviously dyed blonde hair pulled up a stool beside him. The dress she wore might have been sexy if she had had any sort of figure at all to reveal. She held out a grubby hand. "Yoshimi Cliff. What's your name, pretty boy?" Rufus hesitated, on the verge of getting up and running, when there was a loud crash and the bar went silent, save for Rika's voice raised in anger.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU _MISPLACE_ SEVEN THOUSAND GIL!"

She was screaming at a tall, muscular man who was currently cowering in the wreckage of the table he seemed to have been thrown into. Yoshimi sniggered. "Mint's been avoiding her for months. Likes to bet on the chocobos. He's for it now." She whispered, her mouth getting a little to close to Rufus's ear. Her breath stank. He leaned away. The man said what sounded like the last cry of a dying mouse. Rika kicked him in the face, and he went limp. Casually she took his wallet, emptied it into her pocket, smiled at the staring crowd and strolled over to the pinball machine. Sound returned to the room.

Yoshimi suddenly caught Rufus' chin in her talons and turned his face this was and that, her critical dark eyes inspecting him like cattle. After a moment she called to Rika. "I like this guy. Where'd you find him?" And, across the crowded bar room, she shouted back: "He's my bitch." All colour drained from the Vice President's face. Rika suddenly materialised by his side, laughing at him. The looks he was getting from half the men at the bar gave him serious doubts about being able to get out alive. "C'mon," She said cheerfully, "the boss is waiting for us."

* * *

A/N Mint owes Rika serious money, and he's late with the payments. **Bold**: Rika, _italics_: Rufus. Thank you reviewers, Rika/Rufus was never going to happen anyway. I mean, _come on!_ She's a slum rat with some nasty habits. 


	5. Chapter 5

Rika led Rufus to a side door, and up a long, thin stairway and along a long, thin corridor. They paused together outside the polished mahogany door and Rufus took the opportunity to say to Rika, "Why did you shout across a crowded room that I was your bitch?" She gave the Venomous Smile.

"I wanted to see your face. You do not disappoint, my dear boy."

"WHAT!"

"You're fun. How do I look?"

"Like an insane criminally minded slum rat."

"Watch it, golden boy." She glanced at herself in the wall mirror and fluffed up her hair. She then opened the door, and found herself face to face with a moustache. The small man behind it glared at her for a moment, and then nodded to the door at the other side of the room. She smiled brightly, seized Rufus' wrist and dragged him across the room and through the door.

This new room looked more like an executive's office than the residence of an infamous gang leader. It was decorated nicely, with the same scarlet and cream that dominated Rika's house. The desk was huge, polished mahogany again, several pieces of classical furniture on the walls. There was a huge window occupying most of the wall behind the desk, looking out on a small children's playground. It was at this window that a man stood waiting.

Kysten Delmonté turned to face Rufus and Rika. He was nothing like any criminal Rufus had ever seen. His jet black hair was just a little past shoulder-length, clean, neat and perfectly straight. His expensive black shirt was unbuttoned, his body lean and muscular. His eyes…they were startlingly sharp green, almost like mako. He was definitely the scruffy man in the wedding picture, though he looked far paler. He smiled, somehow making him look sinister.

"Rufus Shinra, I presume?" Rika stamped on Rufus' foot. Not that there was any need to, but she had already decided that causing him pain was fun.

"Yes." The single word dripped with venom. Kysten chuckled and circled his desk to get closer to the Vice President, just as Rika turned a key in the lock.

"And Rika, so nice to see you got him here. How was your journey?"

"Well, I left him at the bar for _one minute_ and Yoshimi tried to pimp him."

"She would." He paused, and then peered at Rufus' face as though he had never seen the man before (Which he hadn't in person, but that's beside the point). He put his head on one side. "You were right, Rika." He spoke quietly now. "He looks a lot like Matt."

"Shut up. You think I don't know that?" Rufus was surprised to hear a slight tremble in the woman's voice. Was she trying not to cry? Kysten made a small sound in the back of his throat, and turned back to the window.

"What do you intend to do with me?" hissed Rufus after a brief silence. He noticed a copy of the wedding photo Rika had by her bed, this one in a gold frame on the mantelpiece.

"Use your imagination, kid." Kysten now sounded businesslike. His low voice took on a slight accent Rufus could not quite place. "We are, as you put it, slum rats. Though we have our own houses and a steady income-" Rika cleared her throat loudly-"we are not exactly well off. You know, most of the money we earn here goes to get children off the streets and under a permanent roof. So, we take a few pictures of you, I don't know, tied to a chair or something, send a letter to your father saying if he doesn't pay a ransom or something, we post you back to old man Shinra, piece by piece. Won't that be fun?"

"Just so you know, I don't think I'm worth much over a million gil to my father. I'm just a poster boy, really." Rika and Kysten both laughed.

"Well, I'll write the note, and in the meantime…Rika, I want him to stay with you."

"I hate you."

"I know. Isn't it great?"

"About that _steady income_ thing you were talking about…you owe me, what, five hundred gil wages? I don't work for free. Not even for you. And I regret to inform you that Mint Dawes is currently a blubbering wreck in your bar because he didn't pay his debts. See to it."

"I don't take orders from you." Rufus found himself in the middle of a staring contest between two people with seriously unnerving eyes. Finally, Kysten blinked and Rika looked away at exactly the same time. "Fine, here. That's with interest." He tossed her a wad of money. "I'll make sure Dawes pays you back. You shouldn't really be lending money to gamblers." Whilst Kysten faced the window, Rika mouthed his every word like a petulant child.

A few minutes of silence passed before Rufus spoke again. "When the Turks find you-" The criminals laughed.

"The Turks look at this place all the time," said Rika, "and they've never even found this room. They won't know where we are, and so they won't be able to trace you here. Unless, of course, someone betrayed us, but then I'd have to go Bahamut on their ass." She waved a shining red materia at Rufus. "The last person who tried to sell out Kysten, they never found all the pieces. I made sure of that. Besides, the Turks have been after us for years, they've never found us."

"How do you know that?" Rika snorted.

"We're still alive, right?"

Rufus shrugged, ignoring the bitterness in her voice. Leaving him standing by the door, she sank back into a huge armchair and closed her eyes. "Oh, sit down, Rika." Kysten said sarcastically. She smiled, pulled back the sleeve of her coat and critically inspected a particularly nasty bruise.

Rufus stood still, feeling like an idiot, through several more minutes of silence, until Kysten's phone rang loudly. "Not again…okay, send him up." He sighed. "Right. Business. Rika, take care of him. Mr. Vice President, wait outside." Rufus made a faint growling noise in the back of his throat and turned to the locked door. Rika climbed warily to her feet and opened it, holding it open for Rufus. She made to follow, but Kysten grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back, shutting the door with one hand. He seized her chin in one hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Now you listen to me, my girl," he hissed, all manners dropped. Rika flinched as firm fingers dug into her bruises. "You don't talk down to me. I give you an order, you follow it. I don't want to know weather you like the job or not. You are a tool. _My_ tool. I made you what you are. Don't ever forget that. I don't want to have to hurt you, my girl."

Rika looked up at him with hard, stony eyes. "I am a killer. That's what you made me. Don't you think you've hurt me enough by doing that?" He slapped her. It was a hard, ringing strike to an already bruised cheek, knocking the light woman off her feet, but she did not retaliate. She simply picked herself up and left the room, pausing once at the door in time to whisper, "Perhaps I was happier before." She then slammed the door shut so hard one of the pictures fell from the wall, grabbed a stunned Rufus by the wrist and stormed out.

* * *

Kysten sighed. "I don't want to hurt you, love." he muttered to the door. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself, either."

* * *

A/N Sorry I've been a while. Writers block and school. I will endeavour to add a chapter a week or so. Thank you again, my two faithful reviewers! Sapphire and Eisheth, I shall give you cookies! I need more reviewers. Next up, Shinra Company! (one for all the Turk-fans!) 


	6. Chapter 6

"WHAT!" President Tobias Shinra slammed his fist down on the metal desk, forgetting how much the gesture could hurt. "Well," he hissed to the man in the dark suit that stood calmly in front of him, "If you're sure he isn't dead then he must be alive. Any responsible person would have called me by now to say he is in their care. Therefore, logically, my son is in the care of some irresponsible person who no doubt means him harm. It was your job to make sure that he is safe. You have failed me, Tseng. I confess myself greatly disappointed."

Tseng, the newly appointed captain of the Turks, kept his expression impassive as he explained, "I entrusted him to two of my best men. Unfortunately, one died in the crash and one was severely injured and later shot. They were unable to defend your son."

"You call me 'sir'. So how did the crash come about?"

"We don't know. It was late at night. From what was left after the explosion, it seems a motorbike went out of control and crashed into the front of the car. _Sir._" He paused, then added: "Someone who passed by earlier that day claimed they saw a woman hanging around an alley. _Sir_."

"So? It was probably just a common whore." The President shrugged it off.

"Well, _sir_, she matched the description of a woman we know is connected to a gang leader from the slums, a man named Delmonté. He's been quite troublesome lately. I've had a man look into it. Unfortunately, with the death of my men in the crash, I'm short of manpower right now. In fact, there are only two of us. I'll need some new recruits, _sir_."

The President muttered a few choice four-letter words under his breath and waved the complaint away. "You have my permission to regain the Vice President by any and all means necessary. The press loves him. Do they know yet?"

"As far as the press are concerned, he was badly injured in the crash and is currently in private medical care, too ill to be seen. Gaia willing we'll find him soon. _SIR. _"

"Very well. I want him back as soon as is humanly possible. You may go." The young Turk turned on his heel and left the room.

* * *

The President sat back in his expensive leather chair and closed his eyes. Rufus Shinra, his only son and heir, had disappeared. The boy was not worth much to _him_, he was not irreplaceable. However the media would have a field day were the boy to end up dead. And as for this Delmonté person…

The President leaned forwards to his computer and typed the name Delmonté into his search system. The Database turned up a small family tree, featuring four names. The first was one Kysten Delmonté, current leader of the gang, aged 28. The picture was a passport-style photograph of a man with a white face and strangely ethereal green eyes. Parents: unknown, birthplace: unknown, slight Neibelheimian accent. Though a leader of one of the largest underground dug networks in Midgar, he had no known addictions.

Linked to him by a black line was another man, with tanned skin and short, black spiked hair with blonde roots showing. He was identified as Nathaniel Delmonté, deceased aged 29, cause of death: unknown, parents: unknown, birthplace: unknown. He had died three years ago, passing control of his criminal network on to his younger brother Kysten. Connected to him by a gold line was a young woman.

She looked like she might have been pretty once. It was a shame about the scar. Her hair fell like a mahogany waterfall down her back, a long fringe almost concealing the jagged scar beneath one sparkling gray eye. The profile identified her as Nathaniel Delmonté's widow, Rika Mason. Age: 21, parents: unknown, birthplace: Midgar. Her profile also stated "occupation: singer". That explained that the photograph featured her perched on the edge of a piano, wearing a scarlet evening dress. It was also added that it was widely believed that she also acted as a go-between for her brother-in-law and his fellow criminals. Another note referred to her sanity as "questionable".

Another black line fell from Mrs. Delmonté. This one led to a photograph of a young boy aged around five. He had a healthy pink complexion, blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair flopping over his face. Come to think of it, he looked like a younger version of Rufus. He was identified as Matthew Mason, mother: Rika Mason, father: unknown. He was also deceased, cause of death: unknown.

Was this psychological? Could this Rika have kidnapped the Vice President because of his striking resemblance to her dead son? Or was she simply following orders? Were the Delmonté's even connected to this? And what would become of Rufus, should he have truly fallen into the hands of this woman?

* * *

Tseng and Rude did not speak even as they reached the safety of their office. There had been four of them, not long ago. But Amelia and Derik had died in that crash, striking the Turks with a sudden blow. They had to use their initiative now more than ever.

There was an envelope on Tseng's desk. He slit it open with a knife-like letter opener. Out fell a photograph of Rufus Shinra, lying unconscious on a bed, wearing a bloodstained white suit. Scribbled on the back of the photo was a ransom note. His dark eyes scanned the page until they rested on the ransom outlined at the bottom. He swore loudly and made a note not to let the President see this. Ever.

* * *

A/N This is set when Tseng had only just become leader of the Turks. He's younger, and therefore more likely to make mistakes. I also want this to be perfectly clear: _It is possible to have spiky black hair and not be Zack!_ Where is Reno, I hear the rabid fangirls cry? Try and figure it out. Brownie points are yet again in order for Sapphire. 


	7. Chapter 7

"I hope you don't mind, but I need to make a fast stop along the way." Rika spoke casually to the man handcuffed to her. She walked quickly, practically dragging him along the dirt path between two sectors of the slums, not making any effort to refrain from knocking him into the littered steel debris. His head hurt from the injury he had received in the crash, his ankle ached from when she had tripped him, and he sported several fresh bruises on his knees from his keeper's relentlessly sadistic means of transport.

Since she had dragged him back through the bar room, she had "accidentally" tripped him several times and carefully walked him into a lamppost. Perhaps it was her idea of revenge for being dumped with him. She most definitely disliked his company, and she was in a bad mood as it was…she had received another ass-slapping on her way out of the bar, and as a result had bent said slapper's wrist in a very interesting direction.

He was deep in reflection when a sharp change of direction sent him staggering once again. He found himself in front of a large shack, a huge dog straining against its chain in the front. Rika unlocked her side of the handcuffs and quickly clipped them to the metal gate. Rufus groaned inwardly as Rika drew her gun. "Keep quiet, kid." She hissed, taking aim. She shot the dog. She _shot_ the _dog_. Then, as if visiting an old friend, she strolled past the dead canine and knocked on the door of the shack.

The man who answered the door was definitely a few drops short of a shower. His tiny eyes darted from Rika to the dog, to Rufus and then to the gun in Rika's hand. "Hello

Dave," said Rika pleasantly. "Kysten sends his regards and asks where the hell his money is." Really, even Rufus had to admire the speed and strength of the skinny woman as she grabbed him by the front of his vest and threw him to the floor, gun homed to his head. "You've had your last one last chance, mate. If you don't have enough money to keep the boss happy, you'd better say your prayers." The man scrambled to his knees, whimpering, and backed away into his house. Rika followed after him, blocking them both from Rufus's view.

"Please, please, just one more chance…please?" The man begged.

"Now where have I heard that before?" The safety lock on the gun went _click_.

"Please? I'll do anything! Anything you want! Give me a day! Just one extra day! For me? I beg you, my girl!" A muscle twitched beneath Rika's eye.

"_Right_. First off, I don't answer to empty pleas. Second, any service you do for me will not repay your debt to my boss. Third, I've already given you an extra month. And, lastly, there is only one man on this planet who I allow to call me _his_ girl, and you are not that man."

Rufus tried with sudden frenzied vigour to pull away from the handcuff that trapped him in this place, but was unable to block from his ears the click of the trigger, the scream of the begging man or the cold, heartless chuckle of the assassin. He felt heard the crunch of stones beneath her feet as the assassin came towards him, felt the sound of the handcuffs being reattached to her wrist, but still did not open his eyes. He felt a cold hand on his chin, wiping away what he was ashamed to admit to himself could have been a tear, and then the sting of a slap across his face.

"Kid? Snap out of it." She sounded harsh, like a mother dealing with a pouting child, not a woman facing a man who has just witnessed her ruthlessness.

"Nmmh." Rufus muttered. This woman…what was she? A killer? Yes… a cold killer.

Rika rolled her eyes and strode on, still keeping up a merciless pace, but his time not intentionally throwing him into any debris. Almost an hour passed in silence before they were again stood at the front of the door to her apartment. They went into the battered but clean room; Rika locked the door and released Rufus from his handcuffs at last, and stood at the bathroom door. When she turned to face him, he saw something…different in her eyes. The had glittered dangerously before, but now she looked on the verge of tears.

"If it makes you feel any better," she said quietly, "I would have shot myself long ago if I had the guts." The door closed behind her and, in the silence, Rufus heard the unmistakable sound of almost silent crying.

* * *

A/N Hi guys! This was really just so I wouldn't have to keep my (two) reviewers waiting much longer. The next chapter will explain a few things aboutthe Delmonte's. Just the two reviewers again but thanks guys, the support's great. BTW has anyone noticed, a person can die, fine, but when they shoot a dog the world rears up in hatred? 


	8. Chapter 8

In the living room, Rufus felt bored. Therefore, like any bored teenager might, he started to rummage around a little more thoroughly. At first, nothing much was turned up. But then, beneath a rusty kitchen sink, he found what could easily have been hidden treasure. _Hello. What have we got here?_ It was a black shoebox, tied with a ribbon. Glancing at the locked bathroom door, Rufus retreated into a corner and opened the box.

There were several little trinkets in it, including a gold ring, a feather hairpin, a small, battered teddy bear and a little bundle of photographs. He looked through the photographs, taking in each detail.

The oldest-looking one was a family photo. A small girl with very long mahogany hair and huge eyes, wearing a red dress and cardigan, sat between her parents. The woman was tall and remarkably skinny, with greying hair and wrinkled skin. Clever make-up did not quite hide the bruises on her face and arms. On the little girl's other side, a grotesquely fat, bald, unshaven man sat boredly, piggy eyes focussed elsewhere.

In the next picture, Rika looked into her mid-teens, hair now flowing to the base of her spine, sat on a far more elegant sofa between two men, one large and muscular, one tall but skinny. She wore a black skirt and jacket, and a white shirt.

In the next picture, she sat on a beach, on a large red towel, wearing a red string bikini. Her skin was tanned, and in the background was what looked like a famous Costa del Sol resort. Her waterfall of hair was plaited and twisted around her head, and she looked strikingly beautiful.

_What happened to you? How did you change so much? How did you fall into this life? _And then, a new idea arrived. _What would you give to return to the way you were?_ He had thought she was heartless, but perhaps… perhaps there was leeway. If he promised her a clean slate, a chance to start again, a new, free life… perhaps she would free him. She might take him back up to the plate, to Shinra HQ, in exchange for a return to the life she had obviously once known. And then…_ then, I hand her and every other slum rat who dared lay hands on me over to the Turks._

There was a small noise in the other room, probably just the shifting of shower curtains, but it brought him back to the present. The next picture showed a woman that was probably Rika, looking harassed and tired, but even then still beautiful, wearing a knee-length floral print dress, and holding … a baby. Bright blue eyes were visible, healthy pink skin and a cute round face, all wrapped in a pastel blue shawl.

Was Rika a mother? Did she have a son hidden away amongst that huge crowd in the bar?

By the time the next picture was taken, several years must have passed. Rika's hair had been cut up to her shoulder; her skin had lost most of its tan, but was not so pale as to seem unhealthy. She stood in a well-decorated garden, and held the hand of a small boy with strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes, stood proudly wearing an obviously new school uniform. _He looks like me,_ Rufus thought.

There were three school photos, the boy looking a little older in each one. Rufus dismissed them as insignificant, and looked at the next. This showed something more interesting. The boy, looking about six, sat in a hospital bed wearing white pyjamas and clutching the teddy that Rufus had found in the box. Rika sat by his side, and both wore fixed but obviously fake smiles.

That was the last of the photographs. Beneath them, in the bottom of the box was a small scrap of crumpled paper, on which were written several names.

Nathaniel Delmonté - there was a tick beside this.

Keith Mason - this was also ticked off.

Rei Cliff – this had been ticked, as well as scribbled out so violently a small tear had formed in the paper.

Kysten Delmonté – this was unticked. However, it was the last name that worried the Vice President the most.

Rufus Shinra. His name. _His name_ was on her list. Was she really mad?

* * *

A/N Yup, I know. Treacherously short. Don't hate me, I'm just a messenger. Blame my imagination. Blame writers block. Blame the schools. Blame George W. Bush. Just remember, _I _had nothing to do with any mistakes. 


	9. Chapter 9

There was another noise in the bathroom, and before Rufus had time to react, the door opened and Rika stood in jeans and a t-shirt, towelling her hair. Her eyes darted to his, then to the list in his hand, and then back to him. In a voice clipped with ice she chided him: "It is not polite to rummage through a lady's possessions." Throwing the towel over a chair, she stepped towards him and he backed away. "What, scared of me? I thought your Turks could tackle me any day." _Oh great, now she's quoting my speeches._ She smirked, and snatched the crumpled list from his hand, returning it to the box. "So, I guess you think I'm crazy?" Without thinking, Rufus nodded. Rika laughed and picked a knife-like letter-opener up from the desk. "I can see why. But, come _on_, Rufy. Can't someone with my life even have a hit list?"

Silence reigned. For a full thirty seconds, Rufus stared at Rika as she twined the letter-opener between her long fingers. He finally plucked up the courage to ask: "Do you plan to kill me?" She laughed again, a deep sound with a slightly maniacal edge. In a single swift movement, the coldness of the blade was pressed to his neck "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll even help you… that depends what's in it for me." Rufus tried to stop his eyes from lighting up.

"What do you want?" he asked, hoping for leverage. She smiled down at him, and slightly increased the pressure of the blade on his throat.

"Can you give me the last ten years of my life back?" It was not a rhetorical question. She expected an answer.

"I don't think so." She smiled coldly again, and shrugged.

"Then I don't think you can bribe me, Mr. Vive President." Something in her eyes gave away some strange emotion Rufus could not place. "I'm working late tonight; I'll have to leave you at the bar. I've got a friend who'll take care of you, make sure you don't run away… you know, the usual. He's on that tight a leash you couldn't bribe him with the city of Midgar. Hand?" Rufus had not eaten all day, and didn't have the strength to struggle; he simply held out a wrist to be cuffed to her own. She smiled. "Good boy." She said, and led out.

* * *

On the way to the bar, she allowed him to fall as often as she could possibly trip him over. However, other than that, things were reasonably uneventful. Holding his wrist so tightly he was sure it would bruise, she pulled him up to the bar again. It was quieter now; most of the people here worked best at night.

The bar was being tended by the young man who had answered the door earlier. He smiled as Rika approached. "Miles, Rufus, Rufus, Miles." She introduced them lazily. "I'm off. You know what to do. Rufus, stay here. Or, die if you want." She turned on her heel and left, seeming a little drunk.

Almost an hour passed in silence; in that time, Miles had given Rufus an instant meal which well and truly tasted like cardboard. Rufus had reluctantly eaten it, and then had a glass of water. Now that there were only about ten people in the bar, all sat with a probably-not-beer, a cardboard meal left untouched on every table, Miles had time to sit back, flicking through a magazine with a picture of a scantily clad woman on the front. After an awkward silence, the red-haired youth tossed the magazine in the bin and leaned over the counter to Rufus.

"So… you're Rika's boyfriend." Rufus nodded, not sure what she had told him. "She's seriously weird, huh?" Another nod. Rufus took an opportunity to learn a few things about his psychotic captor.

"Who's Rei Cliff?" He asked. Miles looked a little surprised. He glanced around dramatically, and then lowered his voice.

"Rei was Yoshimi's twin sister. Dead now, of course. Rika killed her. Don't have to tell you why." Miles looked into Rufus's confused face and sighed loudly. "You're not from around here, are you? Okay, so… Rika comes walking in here, fourteen years old, no money, no parents, no home, wanting a job. Now, she was pretty, so Rei employed her. You know, night work…picking up people on street corners, giving them a good time, handing half her pay over to Rei. You know how it works. Poor little thing, she was kinda helpless. Anyways, one day when Rika's fifteen, Kysten and Nathaniel came in here and saw her with Rei. Nate told Rei he wouldn't allow her to pimp a girl that age in his bar, then took Rika upstairs. Next thing we know, she's here singing every night, making a fortune and hanging out with the brothers all the time. She was like the missing third member of the Delmonté family. And, after a few years, she started doing other things for them. Killings, blackmail, that sort of thing. Suddenly Rei turns up dead. Kysten once gave her a custom-made gun, the bullets cost a king's ransom… could only have been her gun that killed Rei." He paused to light a cigarette, took a long drag, and remarked: "The way I see it, the little bitch had it coming. Rika was way too young to be messed up the way she was."

Rufus paused for a moment, taking all this in. After that, he almost felt sorry for her… he could understand why she had been so angry with Rei, at any case. He continued.

"And Keith Mason?" Miles smiled.

"You been into her hit list or something?" He ignored the look on Rufus's face and continued. "Keith was her father. Everyone knows she killed him. He used to beat up her mom, and when she died, he started beating Rika. Of course, she's strong, is Rika. She didn't just lie down and take it. Only about a month after her mom died, she put a kitchen knife right in his big, fat chest. That's how she ended up so low in the gutter she came to us for a job." Two down, one to go.

"So, Nathaniel Delmonté was Kysten's brother?"

"Yup. He married Rika when she was eighteen. Kysten hated him for it, he's always wanted her. That was the year her kid died." Rufus froze, going pale. The boy in the photographs, in the hospital bed, her son… he died? Was this why she was so strange around him? Did she see her son in him? He shook his head and forced himself to pay attention. "Anyways, on her wedding night, she goes home with him, obviously… and then she drags herself in here at four in the morning, bloody and battered, screaming for Kysten. He takes her up to his room- he's got an apartment above the bar- and an hour later he comes downstairs with his gun in his hand, looking fit to kill. Nathaniel turns up dead the next morning; Kysten inherited the gang and Rika's got a scar that's ruined her looks for life… and she lost the baby. The baby she didn't even know she had. Poor little thing, she could have had another baby."

"What happened to her?" He felt worse for her with every one of Miles's tales. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising she was mad.

"Well, he'd gotten drunk and bashed her up. You know what a smart mouth she's got, he was so much stronger than her. Nobody's quite sure what she was doing with Kysten for the night when she got here, but, you know…" He gave Rufus the nudge-nude-wink-wink. "We've got ideas."

Rika? His insane captor who had been used and abused so much her only comfort was a list of people she wanted to die? He suddenly wanted to comfort her. _No,_ he forced himself to think, _she's out there now killing people!_ He shook his head. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge her… perhaps she was justified in kidnapping him, in hating him; if all the others on her list had done so much to hurt her, perhaps he deserved to be hated. But not to die. Sorry as he felt for her, she had still dared to harm him, and she would still pay with her life.

Perhaps this was no longer such a plot of revenge killing as an act of mercy, putting a weary creature out of her misery. And Rika was weary. At this exact moment, she crouched in an alleyway, wiping blood and tears from her face, wishing she had the guts to point that stupid gun at her head and pull the trigger. But first, there were two more people she needed to take care of.

* * *

A/N Okay, sorry I took so long to update! School again… yay people like my fic! I'm so happy… wipes away a tear Anyways, yeah, sorry to keep you waiting. Besides, I've got two other fics to write at the same time now… visit my profile and check them out! Oh, and I HATE instant food. I also live off it. And small insects. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Guess what? Guess what? I wrote the ending, I wrote the ending, I know what's gonna happen…hold on! I knew what was gonna happen from the beginning! BLAST! Oh, well. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Rika finally came back for Rufus at about four in the morning, definitely drunk. There was blood on the knife she held in one hand, cuffing him with the other. She threw Miles a handful of Gil, and left the bar, staggering back to her flat and spending almost five minutes fumbling for her key.

Such was Vice President Rufus Shinra's life for the next week. He stayed at the bar under Miles's watchful eyes whenever she was out "working", which was the case on most nights. His days he passed either in her dingy apartment or the crowded bar.

_She marched into his expensive, comfortable office with the expensive comfortable furniture and straight into an expensive, comfortable hug. "Rika." He spoke her name in a voice than made her shiver. She kept her eyes averted, refusing to lose herself in his beautiful face. Eventually he pulled away, leaving her to feel both regretful and thankful at the same time. "Let's talk business." He said calmly, walking away from her and to his huge leather chair. She perched on the edge of his desk._

Tonight was her night off, and somehow she'd ended up cooking for them; she may have been an annoying and violent bitch, but she could whip up a damned good curry. And a cheesecake.

"_How is Rufus behaving?" Kysten was staring at her; she still refused to meet his eyes. She shifted._

"_As well as can be expected."_

"_In other words, an insolent little shit. You know, you're placing yourself as his mother and it shows."_

"Fancy a drink?" She asked him eventually.

"You mean that cheap horse piss?" Asked Rufus, his annoyed voice slightly forced; after a good meal, he didn't feel like arguing. Rika laughed.

"No, I mean the expensive horse piss. There _are_ advantages to having Kysten in the family." She got up and went back into her kitchen.

_She focussed firmly on her fingernails as he watched her. He waited for her to say something, but after a few seconds he broke the silence with, "I've still not got a ransom note. Have you heard anything from the President?" "_

"_Only what's on the news."_

_You may have to go to the plate and… remind them."_

"And on top of all that, she has a drinking problem." Muttered the Vice President. Another snort of laughter was heard, along with the sound of bottles clanging.

"Rufy darling, you have a very stereotypical view of how the people of the slums live. There are in fact those of us who like spend our evenings listening to classical music, sipping fine wine and reading poetry." She emerged, grinning and holding two bottles of something amber and probably liquid. "And I'm not one of them. Come _on_, live a little." She plonked herself down on the sofa next to him, handing him a beer whilst taking a long swig of her own.

"_Remind them as in leave something in a stained red bundle in the post for old man Shinra?" She glanced at his face, and his eyes held her there._

"_I have faith in your discretion, Rika."_

"_I'll do my best."_

Rufus eyed the bottle distastefully, before taking a small sip. It definitely tasted better than the stuff the bar passed off as drinkable. He felt his keeper's gray eyes on him; she had an irritating habit of either completely ignoring him or staring at him with a lethal intensity. Then she grinned.

"You've never been blind drunk before, have you?" He shook his head. She sniggered. A little colour was beginning to show high on her papery cheeks. "I should have known. You plate bastards spend your evenings sipping your pink champagne and joking about trivial crap like your sister's hair, you think you can hold your drink and you've never even tasted beer." She was more out of it than she looked. She suddenly turned to him, eye to eye.

"_I hope you do" Then his stare became intent. "Do you trust me with your life, my girl?" He asked unexpectedly. She blinked._

"_Of course."_

"_Good. We've never done anything as daring as taking the Vice President before… I may need that trust before this is over."_

"I lied to him today," she muttered thoughtfully. "I've never lied to Kysten before. You're messing me up, kid." Rufus had no idea what to say to this, so he did nothing.

* * *

A/N given there seems to be some confusion about this, let me clear it up. Rika is mentally unstable and suicidally depressed since the death of her son and husband. Kysten knows this, and uses it to manipulate her. And I apologise for the seeming attack on ramen noodles in the previous chapter, I _do_ love ramen noodles. **Ahem** anyways, again thanks for the support and sorry I took so long to update! Don't hurt me! Please! **Cowers** Thank you for the reviews and faves! I love you all!

PS, Belldandy, please don't kill me.


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